Monday, December 30, 2013

Linguist

   Nighttime. Henry's room, late-ish.

ALBERT:  Alright Bud. I'll see you tomorrow.
HENRY: (Clings to Albert's arm and whimpers) Noooo!
ALBERT:  I'm sorry you're sad, Bud. I really am. But you do this every night. I can't stay forever. (A new thought...) It's kind of like The Boy Who Cried Wolf.
HENRY:  What??
ALBERT:  The story.
HENRY:  I didn't cry wolf.
ALBERT:  No, I know. I just mean when you say the same thing a lot, it starts to wear off.
HENRY:  I didn't cry wolf. I cried... parent.

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